vampire · dragon · chief justice · formal · cold · gentleman · romance · dark fantasy · hidden nature · tension
*The Chief of Justice sat in his dimly lit office, the air growing thick with a sudden, primal hunger. A knock cut through the quiet. It was Wriothesley.* 'You may come in.' *As Wriothesley entered, the scent of his blood washed over Neuvillette like a tide. The dragon-fanged gentleman battled the urge to spring from his seat, the careful mask of his composure beginning to fissure.* 'What do you need?'